Bitter Betrayal and Oblivion
by TheSummerWriter
Summary: "Mary knows that she's controlling, but she doesn't see any harm in the way she treats Ib." Arguably a mild M.


I'm in that dark place again. Sorry Garry, I don't know why whenever I'm on the brink of going insane, you're always victimized. I'm such a horrible person, I know.

 **Warnings: Violence, suggestive and unpleasant undertones, possibly manipulation on Mary's part, slightly OOC Ib, and severe Garry-bashing. The reader's discretion is advised, proceed at your own risk. Your consideration is thanked. -Winter**

* * *

"This is dangerous, Mary…" she whispers warningly against Mary's lips, but Mary drowns it out as always, kissing her lips again and again and again, until she's gasping desperately for air between rough kisses, and then, Mary does it again, until she wheezes where Mary's lips play to a smirk. "Mary, _stop_. We need to help Garry, remember—"

Just a minute. Just a minute. Just a damn minute! Mary's eyes narrow, annoyed. She wants to growl at Ib; she wants to shake her delicate, obedient self into submission; she wants to do something, _anything_ to make her forget all about Garry and remember that _they_ would be leaving together, not (with) _him_. Instead of screaming at her, Mary breathes harshly, in and out, to control her temper. It dissipates, for the sake of Ib.

At Mary's breathing exercises, Ib knows. Her lips quiver. Mary's standing so merely away, their noses are touching. Ib is cold, Mary realizes, and she wants to run her hands all over that body until she's warm underneath her, whimpering and whining the way Mary imagines she would. Mary knows that she's controlling, but she doesn't see any harm in the way she treats Ib. She's just being careful, right? She's being protective, because if she lets her guard down for just one moment… that damned Garry will take her away!

That idea makes Mary's breath hitch alarmingly, and she stifles a hideous laugh through her teeth; the idea makes Mary's eyes light up in incomprehensible sinister; the idea makes Mary tremble, in both anger and promised vengeance if Garry were to attempt something so brazen as steal _her_ Ib away. She's heard of men like him from the Painted Ladies, uttering sweet nothings and hopeless dreams to betray their breath and leave them abandoned. Mary won't let that happen to Ib, so that's why she has to protect her!

Ib's gut aches, because she's been playing with fire, and she knows it. Mary is standing in front of her, eyes wild and smile grim. Ib is scared, but she won't show it. She won't show it, yet, because Garry needs them, and she needs to work well with Mary for a little longer. Her gut has said all along that Mary was trouble, but it's nicer giving the benefit of the doubt when survival is in question. The tension is tangible in the way that it makes Ib nearly flinch when Mary leans in closer.

"Who will you leave with, Ib?" she asks softly.

"I'll leave with you, Mary…" answers Ib immediately, because she wants to get back to helping Garry to their side and by saying what Mary wants to hear, she thinks time will roll faster.

But Mary tries again later.

-0-

"Mary…" Mary likes the shameful glaze in Ib's ruby eyes, it's meant to be brimmed of innocence and demureness—but she's tainted by Mary's touch. Her lips are wet and bruising red, her long, brown hair disheveled from when Mary's fingers ran through the locks, all rough and careless.

"What?" asks Mary quietly, she has Ib cornered against one of the dim library walls.

"What about Garry?"

Mary flares up, but the library door is pulled open and Garry walks in, all widened eyes and in shock. He lays eyes on Ib, opening his mouth to say something, but then, he glances at Mary and stiffens. Mary raises her brow, feigning innocence. Garry sees Ib's wet, bruised lips; Garry sees Ib's disheveled hair; Garry sees how her clothes are slightly askew, and he knows with his heart wrenching tight in his chest and his eyes stinging with self-blaming tears, that he might be too late…

-0-

Mary giggles, contented with herself, because Ib is returned to her side. Garry thought he could get away with her in the Sketchbook, but he's wrong. Mary and Ib are going to leave, and he can't do anything about it. Mary is skipping down the long staircase, holding Ib's hand. She's eager and animated, but Ib is slow, cadaverous.

Then, she hears Garry's footsteps, and Mary hurries, dragging Ib like she's only a doll. Garry's footsteps are tentative, his fright of falling down such a flight of stairs abstains him from speeding down faster for Ib. Mary presses Ib into another corner, the hallways are dark and sinister, like Mary's smile when she calls for Garry. She whispers against Ib's ear, and Ib's eyes widen, in fear and shock.

"Mary, no—"

"Don't let me down." hisses Mary, eyes narrowed, and then, she smiles sweetly, leaning back to Ib's ear, and nibbling it.

Ib yelps, drawing out merciful pleas in whines and whimpers (that Mary only imagined to hear) to change Mary's mind. The sounds stir the heat in Mary's abdomen pleasantly, but she isn't easily dissuaded. She giggles, trailing sloppy kisses from the side of Ib's neck to her clothed shoulder.

"What the hell?" Garry stands, glaring. "Leave her alone, Mary!"

Mary doesn't pull away, because he tells her to, she pulls away, because she _wants_ to.

"Don't you know, Garry?"

"About _you_? Oh yeah, we both do." He pauses, "Mary, we don't have to do this, just…" he begins, but Mary doesn't want to talk, especially not with him.

So, she draws out her palette knife and she lungs at him. He raises his hands, ready to hold her back, but it's too late. Ib cries out, tears stinging her eyes and hands clapping to her mouth. The palette knife's tip sharpened, like it was meant to be a dagger, and then, impaled Garry through his stomach. The tip protrudes his backside, crimson splattering all over the white floor, his clothes, and Mary's face.

She giggles wildly. Garry's mouth falls open, eyes dimming in their wideness, and he groans, once, before he drops to his knees and sinks into his own pool of blood. Ib stares, horrified and in shock. Mary skips away, embracing Ib.

"Now, he'll never bother us again."

"You…" Ib begins, but Mary seals a bleeding kiss on their lips, leaving the occurrence unspoken, as sinuous as the times Mary cornered her and stole something from her without Garry to protect her.

And when they jump the painting, Ib never remembers the man that helped and protected her the first trials in that alternate dimension; it's just the way Mary wanted it to be.


End file.
